‘It really cannot be Bristles this time,’ thought Logan.
‘And a dynasty based on the roulette-table, . . . ’
‘Oh, the Prince of Scalastro!’ cried Logan.
‘I see that you know the worst,’ said the Earl.
Logan knew the worst fairly well. The Prince of Scalastro owned a percentage of two or three thousand which Logan had dropped at the tables licensed in his principality.
‘To the Prince, personally, I bear no ill-will,’ said the Earl. ‘He is young, brave, scientific, accomplished, and this unfortunate attachment began before he inherited his—h’m—dominions. I fear it is, on both sides, a deep and passionate sentiment. And now, Mr. Logan, you know the full extent of my misfortunes: what course does your experience recommend? I am not a harsh father. Could I disinherit Scremerston, which I cannot, the loss would not be felt by him in the circumstances. As to my daughter—’
The peer rose and walked to the window. When he came back and resumed his seat, Logan turned on him a countenance of mournful sympathy. The Earl silently extended his hand, which Logan took. On few occasions had a strain more severe been placed on his gravity, but, unlike a celebrated diplomatist, he ‘could command his smile.’
‘Your case,’ he said, ‘is one of the most singular, delicate, and distressing which I have met in the course of my experience. There is no objection
to character, and poverty is not the impediment: the reverse. You will permit me, no doubt, to consult my partner, Mr. Merton; we have naturally no secrets between us, and he possesses a delicacy of touch and a power of insight which I can only regard with admiring envy. It was he who carried to a successful issue that difficult case in the family of the Sultan of Mingrelia (you will observe that I use a fictitious name). I can assure you, Lord Embleton, that polygamy presents problems almost insoluble; problems of extreme delicacy—or indelicacy.’
‘I had not heard of that affair,’ said the Earl. ‘Like Eumæus in Homer and in Mr. Stephen Phillips, I dwell among the swine, and come rarely to the city.’